


catch up, latency

by hugme



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Getting Together, HoshiHinaWeek2020, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, Road Trips, Schoolmates AU, after a fight, jackadlers afterparty, kamomedai!hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugme/pseuds/hugme
Summary: They were in a tireless, unforgiving loop – a never-ending relay born from a frustrating recipe of obliviousness (near ignorance) and blind longing; Korai in pursuit of Shoyo, and Shoyo nipping at Korai’s own heels.With slow, languid steps, they were tracking and following each other’s prints in the sand, never knowing that they went round and round, that they led to each other no matter which way they turned.—in which korai adopts a terrifying new kouhai, pines after him for six years, and finally gets his happy ending that never ends.not necessarily and most definitely not in that order.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 31
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a poor, poor attempt at writing according to a prompt, which i've never done before – all bc i decided to try giving hoshihina week a go on a whim. 
> 
> this is a very broad interpretation of the prompts, bc mgonna try and fit em into a larger overarching story i'd already planned in mind for hoshihina, but didn't have motivation to try and flesh out before this. i'm hoping it'll turn out to be sort of a drabble series, which makes this the first chaptered anything i've ever written ever . 
> 
> prompts: (gonna try and go for four days, but if everything works out, this will have five chapters)  
> day 1 – jackadlers after party (but without the jackadlers technically but shh)  
> day 2 – domestic  
> day 3 – road trips  
> day 4 – after a fight 
> 
> crossin fingers

When Shoyo tells him the behind-the-scenes of it all, years later, during a drunken slurry of complaints laced with mirth and wistful compliments and fond nostalgia, Korai thinks back. On all those years he waited and wasted and wallowed in stagnant yearning and _should-I-shouldn’t-I_ s and _will-I-won’t-I_ s.

He thinks stupidly, helplessly about how he was so busy chasing after Shoyo, path blinded dark by everything but Shoyo’s back towards him, blocking him from the sun while concurrently leading him towards it, that he never realized what Shoyo himself was chasing.

They were in a tireless, unforgiving loop – a never-ending relay born from a frustrating recipe of obliviousness (near ignorance) and blind longing; Korai in pursuit of Shoyo, and Shoyo nipping at Korai’s own heels.

With slow, languid steps, they were tracking and following each other’s prints in the sand, never knowing that they went round and round, that they led to each other no matter which way they turned.

Even after this shocking revelation that would’ve come to the surprise of no one but themselves, Korai’s mind still floods with the same old, same old. He’s sitting in a dingy pub, Shoyo across from him, their ex-schoolmates and old rivals and now-teammates long gone, and he doesn’t know when that happened, but Shoyo’s hand is in his. The other’s eyes are surprisingly sober, and he sympathizes a little – sometimes acting, believing we’re a little more inebriated than we actually are helps get the truth out just a little bit better.

And yet still, same old same old.

_Should I? Shouldn’t I?_

But his heart is pounding in his chest in a sickeningly familiar way. Six years of torrid and unwavering pining later, the fire still hasn’t left him. He feels a lovely, bittersweet satisfaction at knowing that it never left Shoyo either.

So fuck the _will-I-won’t-I_.

And so he kisses him.

He kisses him at the pub, then takes him home to his tiny apartment, and kisses him some more.

He wakes up the next day to Shoyo humming in the kitchen, and with a surge of such unbridled contentment he feels like he could almost cry, he goes and kisses him again.

Sickening. It doesn’t end, and he never wants it to.

* * *

That’s after.

This is the story about before.

* * *

“Hoshiumi! Someone’s asking for you. Some first-year.”

Korai tilted his head a little in confusion, but answered the call anyway, making his way to the door with his milk box still in hand. As he approached the door, fiddling with the straw between his teeth, he craned his head forward, trying to peek at whoever asked after him and then thought it was a good idea to hide behind the wall immediately after. The classmate who had passed on the message was still at the entrance, facing the mystery inquirer and looking just as puzzled as Korai was.

He only managed to catch a flash of orange, a hair colour just barely louder than the _eep!_ he was met with as he turned the corner, and the kid turned tail and _fled_.

Admittedly flustered, the straw dropped out of Korai’s mouth when he brought the juice box down, and he turned to face the classmate next to him, one eyebrow raised. “Who was that?”

The other shrugged, scratching her head. “I don’t know, he just came up and asked me if you were in. Thought he had something to say to you, but I guess not.” She popped her head out into the hallway, and Korai turned his head to follow suit.

To their surprise, the first-year had already disappeared down the end of the hallway, leaving a trail of dust and once again, that slight glimpse of crazy orange hair a lingering afterimage.

_Huh, got some legs on him_ , Korai found himself thinking.

He thanked the girl, and made his way back to his desk, twirling the now almost-empty milk box in his hand. Before he could settle in his seat, another classmate clamoured over, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “So what was that? Has our Hoshiumi gotten himself a secret admirer?”

Korai stared up at the ceiling, revisiting the interaction (if you could call it that) in his head. Maybe ‘secret admirer’ would be easier to make sense of. He knew Hirugami had quite a few on his arm, though he’d never had one of his own. He wasn’t the most approachable, after all, but he didn’t mean to be. If people wanted to try and catch up with him, they were free to do so. But in the meantime, Korai had bigger fish to fry. Like figuring out how to grow taller. No time to look behind him or wait for others – all he could do was go forward, do his own thing, go at his own pace. How else was he going to reach the top?

“Don’t think so,” he replied, nibbling at the straw tip, still half-deep in thought. “Kid scrammed as soon as he saw me coming.” He turned to the other with a cheeky grin. “Think he wanted a fight?”

“Looks like he could take ya, to be honest. Saw him from the window earlier, he looked pretty tiny. So you can finally pick on someone your own size for once!” He cracked up, clearly thinking himself the funniest man on earth, till he caught Korai’s expression – eyes characteristically intense, and not a hint of amusement in them.

His laughter fizzled, and he coughed into his fist, before continuing. “Why d’you think some random first year’s sneaking around the second years’ classrooms so early in the year then? Looking for you specifically? He’s gotta have guts.” His eyes widened, then. “Oh, is he one of the new freshmen from the volleyball club?”

Korai shrugged. “Maybe. Could be. Club hasn’t started yet, though. Haven’t even had our first practice.” He was bored with this conversation already, not so much with the topic as it was with this classmate and his wild ideas and flat humour. He punctuated his last sentence with a solid, invisible wall between them, indicating they were done. The classmate meekly turned away and went back to his seat, leaving Korai to his thoughts unintentionally drifting to visions of orange.

His eyes returned to the ceiling. The bell rang, and the homeroom teacher came in moments later, preparing for class. All throughout the lesson, Korai imagined tufts of orange hair, coming together to form a puffball. He found himself wondering what the first-year might have looked like, what he could have wanted. In his brain, the orange puffball becomes a head, and he dressed it in a hoodie, a black gakuran. Gave him speedy little legs that managed to run down the length of a hallway in indoor shoes in ten seconds flat. He chuckled at the idea of the strange monster he’d created.

Two days later, as he walked into Kamomedai volleyball club’s first practice of the year, his eyes immediately landed on a certain first-year in the lineup of new recruits, the head of orange attached to a presence that all but demanded to be noticed. Korai couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud, head thrown back and mouth wide open, and didn’t care that this drew the attention of the entire gym, or that Hirugami elbowed him for freaking everyone out after.

His imagination wasn’t that far off the mark after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what it is is that every chapter's going to be some form of established hoshihina in the future, just so i can write them doin cute shit. then we're gonna flashback to hs years which means piNING and feELINGS because i would like to have my cake and eat it too, and here no one can tell me no.
> 
> basically:  
> two sets of beginnings, and parallel middles. same set of people. one timeline has an ending, but the other won't – that's already been established here. no unhappy endings – just regrets. 
> 
> please do let me know if this format i've chosen makes no sense. it's a weird, weird narrative that i did not plan and know not how to control anymore, but i can sure try and remedy it. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/smolaed)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really don’t know or remember if kamomedai had ever made it to nationals before, and tbh, i didn't actually remember anyone from the rest of the team literally except for gao. ehe 
> 
> this was day 2 – domestic of hoshihina week!! my first chapter two ever. you have no idea how excited i am. I'm really proud of this one! thank u to everyone who left kudos and comments, they truly make my day and i really just can't help but smile stupid at them.

Domesticity was never something Korai imagined for himself. He’s a wild child, through and through, and he’d say this was even more so the case for Shoyo. A pair of little monsters, constantly thirsting, constantly on the prowl. Clawing their way to the top.

He never thought they’d ever be satisfied to even reach that point of _tameness_ he associates with domesticity – not in life, not in their careers, not in love.

But he wakes up that morning for the first time to see Shoyo in his kitchen, back in his life, in his _space_ , and he discovers that none of that really matters. Just because he’s content, doesn’t mean his claws can’t still be sharp.

It’s an impish joke that’s really more suggestive than it is funny or clever, and Korai grins, because his eyes, no longer sleep-blurred, zone in on the nail marks he’d left on Shoyo’s bare shoulders the night before. The satisfaction grows when he feels the sting of nearly identical marks along the length of his own back, long red scratches that surprise and fluster him – both he and Shoyo make a point of keeping their nails perfectly manicured, trim and neat, so how _passionate_ had they have to have been to dig so deep?

Sickening. Barely 24 hours into their relationship, and he’s already talking like a sap.

It’s beginning to smell good, and Shoyo’s started humming. Some soft, sweet tune he’d heard whispered in his ear last night like a lullaby, as Shoyo had wrapped his arms around him, chest flush against his back as he’d held him to sleep. Legs tangled together, a tiny kiss to his earlobe before they became dead to the world.

Korai has to admit, there’s a guilty satisfaction he feels deep in his gut when he sees that _although_ Shoyo’s grown some, even though they’re closer in height than ever before, even though that puts them at the ideal height to look sappily into each other’s eyes and kiss without straining one or the other’s neck…

He still revels in the fact that no matter what, he’s still all of one centimetre taller.

Which is petty of him, he knows. But after six years of waiting, of regretting, of running at a breakneck pace without rest, he thinks he’s earned the luxury of knowing that Shoyo will love him even through the yet unresolved height complex.

(He still misses having to tilt his eyes down at Shoyo, though, just a little. It reminds him he was the senpai, once. He was the older, more experienced, more mature one, once.)

And for once, Korai is thankful for his tiny apartment, the layout allowing him to curl up and laze in bed while being able to admire Shoyo’s form from afar, the ripple in his bicep as he flips a pancake, almost drops it, and giggles to himself, before realizing Korai’s eyes are on him and ducking his head to hide the ensuing blush.

Korai has a very hard time resisting his urge to ditch every warm blanket he’s swaddled in to dash into the kitchen, tackle Shoyo, and pepper his entire face with kisses.

So he doesn’t.

In essence, Korai’s life is now a rom-com.

* * *

That’s after.

This is the story about before.

* * *

Once Korai had calmed down enough from his fit of laughter, he allowed Hirugami to guide him away from the south side of the gym, where the freshmen were getting the tryouts’ low-down, to the club dressing room. He was the only one who didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching him the whole while.

Shoyo tried his best to focus on the coach and captain’s speech, but no matter how hard he strained, his eyes kept straying; his range of vision seemed to only see Hoshiumi, Hoshiumi, _Hoshiumi_. He twiddled his thumbs, he kept rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. His whole body was ready to take off, run towards the person he studied his ass off for, who he’s been waiting a whole year to see, and introduce himself.

_The little giant_ , he whispered excitedly under his breath, entirely to himself, not knowing that everyone else could hear, because Shoyo trying to be quiet, to temper his presence, was like pretending as if the sun didn’t exist up in the sky.

“So to start off, we’re going to separate into groups, let you hit the ball around a bit,” the captain’s voice cut through, snapping Shoyo straight to attention the second he heard the words _hit_ and _ball_. “See what you’ve got.” He met Shoyo’s eyes with an unreadable smile, and Shoyo pursed his lips, shuddered in excitement, and ran off with the rest of the first-years.

A raging, undeniable presence. Promising. Aikichi nodded, expectant.

That is, until later that evening, barely half an hour later, when Shoyo took a ball to the face.

Honestly, it wouldn’t have been so bad – it happened often, he was used to it, his skin had grown thick – if Korai hadn’t stopped to observe the whole thing. He finally, _finally_ walked past, and it had been Shoyo’s turn to show him what he was really capable of, at long last.

And he blew it.

As Shoyo wallowed in the corner of the court, shocked at having ruined his own image in front of his idol, Korai was gripping the collar of his shirt, summoning all the willpower he had not to let the snicker building up in the back of his throat release. He pressed his lips together hard, a giggle threatening to escape even as he felt a pang of sympathy for the poor kid.

While he was considerate enough to try and hold his own laughter back, clearly, the captain didn’t have as much tact. Aikichi came up next to Korai, chuckling at the sight of Shoyo slapping himself out of his own funk, heading back towards the court with that boundless energy, calling for toss after toss after toss.

“You might want to pay extra attention, Hoshiumi. That’s a kid you wanna keep an eye on.” In his periphery, he caught the look of curiosity on Korai’s face, and his smile grew larger. “You’ll see what I mean. He’s a little one, but he’s set for the skies.” Aikichi turned to face him, an amused crinkle of his eyes, but his voice taking on a teasing lilt. “Just like you.”

Now that set Korai a little on the edge, admittedly.

He guessed Shoyo was around his height, and despite knowing next to nothing about the kid save for the mildly impressive fact that he could get smacked in the face with a ball and recover within a minute, Korai couldn’t help the way his hackles raised, the way he automatically perceived him as competition. And the way the captain hinted at his potential, even though Shoyo had been doing a pretty consistent job at proving him wrong, felt almost like a _threat_ to Korai.

As if on cue, Shoyo dove in for another receive – this time, the ball hit his forearms, but bounced back at the wrong angle, propelling straight for his face once again, and hitting him so hard he got knocked back.

Upon seeing this, Korai sneered a little despite himself. _Ha! I win_ , he wanted to announce to the entire gym. He could feel the shadows of a smirk playing on his lips as he wondered if Shoyo’s face was simply a ball magnet, and laughed internally at the visual that ensued.

“Go play a little practice round with him,” the captain suggested, raising his hands as if in surrender when Korai responded with an incredulous look. “All I mean is I think you’ll find him pretty interesting.”

Korai was unconvinced. “I really think I’ve seen enough. The kid’s a complete newbie out on the court, if you haven’t noticed. If you want me to go cheer him up just because we’re ‘round the same height and you think I can give him hope or whatever you’re thinking? You can forget it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, man, this isn’t a pity fest. Neither for him or for you. I just think it’d mean a lot to the kid. I mean, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.” Aikichi’s mouth curls up at the sides, a knowing smile that frankly pisses Korai’s off a little. As if he knows something he doesn’t. “You should’ve seen him during introductions! Hinata-kun was trying so hard to focus, but not a single person couldn’t tell his eyes kept flitting back and forth to you; he couldn’t even stand still.”

Ah. So maybe ‘secret admirer’ hadn’t been so far off the mark, either.

If Korai’s head were just a little bigger than it already was, or if he cared about that sort of thing, he might have felt touched. Maybe his cheeks might have tinged pink.

Maybe his interest was piqued, and maybe he remembered the way Shoyo ran from him earlier, feeling more flattered than he wanted to. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up, as he relished in that satisfaction and pride that came with being complimented, with being regarded, with being _looked up to_. A position Korai had waited his whole life to take.

_Well_ , he realized with glee. _I_ am _a senpai, now_.

So Korai took the bait. And as he stood face-to-face with Hinata Shoyo for the first time (nowhere for him to flee on the court), he took wicked pleasure in the revelation that he was taller – a good six centimetres or so, at that – relishing in the feeling of getting to be the one to tilt his head slightly downwards to meet someone’s eyes for a change.

“H-Hoshiumi-san!” It wasn’t so much a greeting as it was Shoyo trying to convince himself that his idol was really standing in front of him, so close. So much more intimidating than seeing him tiny on the television screen, where those eyes, all force and ambition and tenacity, were lost in the pixels. The eyes currently looking straight at him, scanning him from head to toe, gauging, _dissecting_. Shoyo clutched the ball his hands tight, gripping it so hard he was scared it might pop, but too lost in his awe to care.

“W-“

“I’m Hinata Shoyo!” Shoyo burst out before Korai could get a word in. He cringed when he realized he’d spoken over him, but couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. He wanted to tell him everything. How he saw him play that one fateful evening last year. A figure bright on the TV screen, a presence so large and beautiful that made him wonder if he could _soar_ , and when he did, Shoyo swore he saw wings. And made him believe that if he tried hard enough, maybe he could fly, too.

_The next little giant_ , they called him. How amazing it was that he was only still a first-year at the time – a starting player in his first year at that height? It did more than give Shoyo hope; the ambition seared itself into his heart at that very moment, as did the image of Korai rocketing up into the air, leaving everyone else in the dust. When he had to convince his mom to let him move for high school, and when he spent weeks on end studying like he never had before to get into the same school as _the little giant_ , that was the image that replayed over and over again in his mind, a goal, a dream, an initiative to keep him going and to fuel his appetite.

He never did manage to confess everything, he was so starstruck and tongue-tied. What did come out was this: a rambling of compliments and incoherent jabbering that was double in its enthusiasm than in intelligibility, because he just could _not_ stop himself from gushing. But Korai seemed pleased nonetheless, his chest noticeably puffing up with pride upon hearing the title that had been more so forced on him but that he had come to enjoy. Then, it was Shoyo’s last declaration – after he was huffing and puffing and all out of flattery not because he was out of admiration, but because he had reached the end of available synonyms for all his praise – that set off the entire team into chaos (at this point, they had drawn a crowd).

Shoyo had looked _up_ at Korai, eyes unblinking and incandescent and almost _inhuman_ in its hunger. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sort of expression to Korai – he’d thought he’d all but patented it himself – but it still sent a shiver down his spine, bristling and _thrilling_ , because he had never been on the receiving end of that stare.

He spoke so quietly – a whisper holding all the weight of the world – in a tone challenging but _reverent:_ “I’m going to take your place.”

And he smiled at the end of it all. Terrifying, but brilliant. All heart, but dangerous. A trap.

For the first time in his life, Korai felt fear. But not the sort where you want to run for your life. The sort of fear that made you want to stake your place and _fight_ , that stoked the fire inside of him into an inferno, out of control. He was drawn into those eyes, gleaming with determination, the gaze of a fighter, mirroring his own. In them, he could see his past, his present, his future.

Gao, who had come up beside him sometime during it all, slung an arm over his shoulder; Korai barely felt it or registered his presence. His teammate cackled in disbelief, and teased, “Looks like you’ve got yourself one heck of a kouhai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's make chapter two shorter, i said. it'll make things easier on myself, i said. nowhere did i say let's make the second chapter 2k+ just for shits and giggles, yet here we are. 
> 
> the more i look at this, the more i realize this is just two separate fics in one. more, potentially when you realize the ‘future’ sections are a drabble series in and of itself, and the ‘past’ sections could just stick together to make their own fic. but do i care


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three chapters in three days. who the fuck am i 
> 
> day 3's prompt was road trips!! in which korai is outed to be an unbelievable sap and embarrassingly fond .

As the Shinkansen pulls up in front of them and slows to a halt, and as they heave their luggage onto their backs, getting ready to board, Shoyo leans over to take Korai’s free hand in his own, and turns to him with a smile that could melt the sun. As if he knows the turmoil going on in Korai’s insides right now, nerves going wild and tangling and balling up to settle in the pit of his stomach.

The ride from Tokyo to Miyagi, then to Shoyo’s home takes about 3 hours total. Korai tells himself he’s just got to stop from puking till then. At which point he’ll have to stop himself from freaking out on an entirely new level, because once they arrive, the thing he’s been dreading most is going to happen.

He’s going to meet Shoyo’s family.

It’s not like he thinks they aren’t going to be the absolute loveliest of people. Shoyo talks about them constantly, and Korai is more worried about whether or not he’ll pass out from vitamin D overload once he’s faced with three Hinatas at once.

For now, though, he lets the warmth of Shoyo’s hand ground him, revels in the way the rough pad of Shoyo’s thumb rubs soothingly over his knuckles, and hope his own palm isn’t too clammy.

Once they get onto the train, it takes a little maneuvering to heft their huge backpacks over and onto the overhead baggage rack, but Shoyo manages; his own, first, then taking Korai’s out of his hands wordlessly, and finishing the job with a soft grunt and barely breaking a sweat. Korai hums, appreciative, not caring who might hear or see him shamelessly ogling his boyfriend’s arms in public.

Korai has no say over what his boyfriend wears, and if his boyfriend just so happens to choose to wear a very flattering tank top the day they have to travel and do some very heavy luggage-lifting, then so be it.

Also, that’s his _boyfriend_.

He’s a little smug, so sue him.

Shoyo gestures to Korai to sit down first, then settles into the adjacent aisle seat with a huff. He takes off his cap, and leans back into the chair. Runs his fingers through his hair to try and shake off the sweat, and Korai has to resist the urge to join in. Instead, he waits for Shoyo to finish, shove his cap into the compartment of the seat in front, and at the very first opportunity, snakes his hand into his once again, this time interlocking their fingers.

“You can go ahead and sleep, you know. It’s gonna take forever to get there,” Korai insists. “What else are road trips for?”

He knows how exhausted Shoyo must be, because the kid hadn’t slept all night, so over-excited to be reunited with his family, to see his sister graduate, to introduce the boyfriend he’s so excessively proud of. Shoyo’s an early riser by nature, and was last-minute packing from dawn up till departure.

Even he has his limits. So it doesn’t take long for Shoyo to doze off, letting his head fall gently onto Korai’s shoulder and nuzzling his cheek slightly before passing out with one last sleepy “I really can’t wait for you to meet them.” Korai can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto his face, and his nose crinkles slightly at how Shoyo’s hair, ruffled and wild, tickles at his neck.

As he looks out the window, because he truly does not need the nausea of vehicle sickness added onto his piling nerves, it occurs to him that he’s never really liked road trips.

Korai recalls the last time he’d taken the Shinkansen for non-work-related reasons was way back in his third-year of high school, the school trip Hirugami had somehow managed to talk him into attending, because _it’s our last year,_ and _it’ll be fun_ , and _think of all the places we’ll go, one last hurrah_.

Except all he really remembers from that trip was missing Shoyo. Thinking of all the last practices he could’ve been having with Shoyo before he graduated. Thinking of all the fun Shoyo would be having without him, even though he was the one technically on vacation. Sulking about how his ‘one last hurrah’ didn’t involve Shoyo by his side, all because of that one measly year between them.

He coughs, trying to shake off the embarrassment at his own damn self, ignoring the way his face flared red at the realization that maybe he’d been in love with his boyfriend even earlier than he’d thought, but made sure to be careful not to move Shoyo too much. Korai can’t help but peek at his sleeping face, suddenly feeling stupidly sentimental. He brings up a hand to brush Shoyo’s hair behind his ear, not necessarily because it was in the way, but just because he can.

From the outside, he guesses this is what people imagine their relationship to be like all the time– as if Korai is the one who takes all of Shoyo’s weight, is the rock in the relationship, the one leading. Korai has to suppress a snicker at the thought, because that’s how he had assumed it to be, too, at first.

The reality is that he took it for granted, the way Shoyo used to follow him around with stars in his eyes, like a lost puppy. He misses those days, if he’s being honest. Now, he chuckles as he wonders just when exactly it was that their roles began to switch. Wonders when it was that Hinata Shoyo became the centre of his world. Wonders when he began to rely on him so much, and does not wonder what his life would be without him there at his side.

If Shoyo wanted to lead him around on a string, he’d let him. If Shoyo told him to follow him blindly onto a train heading to nowhere, he would. Korai will follow him to the ends of the earth. He can do at least that much, if not more.

* * *

That’s after.

This is the story about before.

* * *

“You gotta come with me to meet Natsu with me someday, Senpai!”

Korai quirked a brow at him. “‘Senpai’?”

If Shoyo nodded his head any quicker, any more enthusiastically, Korai was convinced his head would pop off from the sheer velocity. Shoyo didn’t seem to care, though, content with just watching and waiting for his response – patiently, determinedly, eyes glittering with admiration and anticipation.

“H-Hoshiumi-senpai!” He repeated, his face flushed with how worked up he was, fists clenched in front of him, terribly, terribly eager. He was bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, like a puppy greedy for attention.

Korai tried, but failed to keep a poker face; the grin broke out without his permission, so wide it bared his gums, and he couldn’t help the surge of warmth that spread across his chest, the red that crept up the back of his neck to the very tips of his ears. “Sure do like the sound of that!” He crosses his arms across his chest, and the corners of his mouth pulling back into a wide, toothy smirk as he leans in close, daring to look Shoyo straight in the eye. “But you do know we’re rivals, right, Hinata Shoyo-kun? Declared war on me, and now you’re following me everywhere I go and calling me _senpai_? Where’s your competitive spirit, huh?”

Indeed, they were standing in front of the second-years’ classroom, drawing a crowd as always since neither of them are capable of using an inside voice nor tempering their presence, and Korai was starting to think that this was going to become a daily occurrence. Nearly every day for months now, Shoyo had come running up to the upperclassmen’s floor, demanding to keep Korai company for lunch. Unheard of, the _guts_ he had. It was like the kid who had ding-dong-ditched him that first time he visited had been someone entirely different.

Not that Korai was at all worried or embarrassed, because he was good at stamping out those sorts of feelings – when you’re small, you gotta live big, and live shameless, if you were going to get anywhere. In fact, he was starting to enjoy the kid’s presence, had to admire how unabashedly straightforward he was. Starting to see more of himself reflected in Shoyo, although Korai would never admit that he wished he had even half his stamina, half his nerve.

“I want you to teach me how to jump higher, senpai!” There we go, a perfect example. _What nerve_ , Korai thought; a rush of delight ran through him, a feeling of astonishment rather than annoyance. This strange reaction no longer felt like a surprise to Korai, but no matter how ready he thought he was for Shoyo’s antics, Shoyo always had a way of knocking him off his feet.

Korai shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shifted to turn slightly back towards his classroom, as if he wasn’t considering Shoyo’s request, as if he were playing coy. “I think you already jump plenty high, don’t you? Why’re you asking me for help; weren’t you gonna take my place, beat me into the ground?”

And like entering the eye of the storm, Shoyo suddenly went quiet. Eyes blown, snapped to attention, entirely serious. As if they weren’t standing in the middle of a busy hallway during lunchtime, as if Korai was the only one he saw.

“Well, of course?” His words were uncharacteristically slow, shaping an unexpectedly intense answer to Korai’s question, clearly meant to be a joke. His head tilted slightly, an action that was a question in and of itself, not demeaning, but nevertheless was meant to ask, _isn’t that obvious?_

And for the first time, Korai felt a disconnect. For the first time, Shoyo was unreadable to him, in a way that was intimidating and almost frightening, but terribly, terribly exciting. A shiver ran down his spine. (He was getting lots of those lately, weird. Must be the change in weather.)

Shoyo looked down at his hands, not timid or pensive. Choosing his words carefully. His fingers rubbed over his knuckles, as if gearing up for a fight that no one but him knew was going to happen. “It’s not just you, Hoshiumi-senpai. I’m going to beat _everyone_.” The tension in his hands released, and he lifted up his right hand, peering at it against the fluorescent hallway light, reaching for something Korai couldn’t see, but could very well imagine. His fingers cast a shadow over the top half of his face, but it couldn’t take away the glisten in his eye. “To get to the top, I’m going to have to surpass you, and so many others. Isn’t that so exciting? I want to get out there and spike, and play game after game after game. ”

Korai held back a scoff; that wasn’t something he needed to struggle to understand. But he didn’t interrupt. Maybe it was because he didn’t know what to say, or simply had nothing to. A silent understanding, a form of mutual respect.

Shoyo brought his hands back down and continued after a slight pause, like struggling to find the words for a confession. “But I’m not so stupid as to think I can do that right now, when I can’t even beat you. Senpai, you’re only the first step.” His gaze lowered, locked straight onto Korai’s. No escape. As if he knows Korai has been rendered breathless, Shoyo grins, all teeth and cheek. “So, you’re going to teach me, right?”

If Korai were a lesser man, he would have sputtered. He would have protested, except for the fact that Shoyo, that _con man_ , made him want to help. He was beginning to learn why no one could ever really say ‘no’ to Shoyo – a sort of magnetism lacking in pretension, a personality that full of charm and sincerity and _desperation_? Criminal.

He couldn’t have asked for a better rival, in all honesty.

Korai reacted the only way he could have in that situation; he threw his head back and laughed, defeated but not feeling so. He brought a hand up, and ruffled Shoyo’s hair to his content. A sort of revenge, or maybe payment. Shoyo’s eyes crinkled adorably, but Korai ignored how the sight made him feel, mostly because he simply did not know how to identify the sentiment nor what to make of it.

“You’re on, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i'm a fool, chapter three ended up being just as long, and i feel half the fondness for it than i did the first two chapters. i'm still pretty proud of it though , and i hope y'all enjoyed it !! i appreciate any comments i can get, so lmk what u thought (even if that thought is one line long and consists of just AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH) !!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i blanked out hard for how to write the second half of this one (writing for the fourth day in a row ? has never happened before my brain's Out), so i almost didn't. but for the sake of staying true to the pattern ............. 
> 
> thanks for tuning into day 4 – after a fight!! and thank u for the comments ;; they're supremely appreciated, especially on chaptered fics !! makes it feel like i'm bringing yall along on the journey with me, n it's lovely knowing people r looking forward to my writing; it really keeps me going!

Sometimes, they fight.

It doesn’t matter, really, what the fight is about. Often, neither of them even remember.

Korai knows he can be a little hot-headed, a dozen weird little complexes feeding into his ego a little too much. Shoyo, on the other hand, can retreat so far into his own head, so deep in a process and so hinged onto a thought that it can come across as insensitive. It’s always the same culprits. They know each other. They forgive and forget.

That doesn’t mean it feels _good_ to fight.

Honestly, even though Korai can’t remember the first time they’d ever fought, he remembered how hard it shook him to his core. Korai’s good at arguments (that is, when it comes to anyone else but Shoyo); in fact, he’s usually the instigator, whether intentional or not. But that first time, he knew that he’d fucked up, before his words had even finished leaving his mouth.

Although he was angry, although he said some things he shouldn’t have, he liked Shoyo so, so much. He loves him still, like nothing else in the entire world. And he hadn’t wanted to risk that, but at the time, it’d felt like he was risking _everything_.

He should’ve given Shoyo a little more credit than that.

Shoyo has his moments, and Korai has his own. But Korai wonders if it was the years that Shoyo spent as a glorified underling of his (Hirugami’s term for _whatever_ their relationship was) back in high school that makes him so _good_ at dealing with Korai and his short-ass temper. Not to say that Korai makes a habit of taking it out on Shoyo, but Shoyo just has this keen talent for knowing how to take care of him. For knowing how to calm him down, and for knowing exactly what was wrong, how to fix it.

Sometimes, Korai thinks Shoyo’s too good for him.

He’s supposed to be the older one in the relationship, goddamn it.

Which is why it’s funny to think about how they got here in this position – the one they always find themselves in in the aftermath of a fight. Not arguing, not withdrawing; just being in the presence of each other, recovering silently. A hushed understanding that both of them know what they’d each done wrong, because forcing out an explicit apology that neither of them are quite ready to come forward with right now would seem insincere.

It’s less cathartic than it sounds, though, and it almost always ends with Korai climbing silently into Shoyo’s arms, hiding his red-rimmed eyes into the nook of his shoulder. Then Shoyo laughs, and asks no one in particular how he’s ended up babying his boyfriend when he’s the younger one of the two. Regardless of the jab, Korai likes it when Shoyo brings his hand to the back of his head and strokes his hair, dispelling any and all apprehension. “I’m here to stay, you know. You don’t ever have to worry about that,” Shoyo repeats, as he always does. “We’re partners in crime, remember?”

Korai can feel the smile Shoyo stamps onto the crown of his head, because Korai doesn’t let Shoyo kiss him when he’s crying. It’s damn embarrassing, and tastes salty, and frankly, feels kind of gross.

“We’re going to last,” Shoyo insists.

At that, Korai’s cheeks flame red, and he burrows his head into Shoyo’s chest, more adamant than ever to not lift his face up. He gives a tiny nod, though, and hopes Shoyo can feel it. _You got that straight_ , he doesn’t say. _You’re not getting rid of me that easily_.

Out loud, he agrees to the extent he can manage without his head exploding, his voice watery. “Partners in crime.”

* * *

That’s forever after.

This is the story about before.

* * *

Hirugami Sachiro called Korai a terrible influence, but Korai would argue that technically, he and Shoyo were both gremlins. They couldn’t help it. They just brought it out of each other naturally. Small bodies, big presence. That was just the logical tradeoff.

Ever since Korai managed to trick Shoyo into stealing the captain’s key and hiding them behind the basketball net as “a testament to jumping ability,” it seemed that – inexplicably – it had simply made him latch onto Korai even stronger. It was as if the week-long gym-cleaning punishment hadn’t been enough to faze him, nor to convince him that Korai maybe wasn’t the best role model after all.

All of which added up to mean that Sachiro’s job got twice as hard, simply put.

Sachiro didn’t sign up for the volleyball team to become a caregiver for two grown children, but that was just how it turned out to be. Korai in his first year had already been loud and shameless and _bold_ , and somehow, everyone had left it to Sachiro to rein him in. He’d been successful, for the most part.

And then in swept Shoyo. Shoyo, who undid all his hard work. Shoyo, the ultimate enabler, coming in with his unabashed, unhindered ability to charm and encourage. With Korai at the other end of those pretty words and incessant flattery, Sachiro thought that his teammate’s head might swell so big it would pop.

Shoyo’s easy chemistry with Korai was something to admire, though. He became a catalyst; his talent to string others along with his hefty appetite and captivating energy extended beyond Korai, and propelled the entire team to ambitions they hadn’t thought possible.

Most importantly, his goals harmonized with Korai’s in a way that Sachiro was grateful for. Although the two of them got into trouble as if they were being paid to do so, as if their job was to make Sachiro’s life a living hell, Shoyo fulfilled a spot in Korai’s life that Sachiro could never. All Sachiro did was pick up after his messes, moderate his tendency to instigate unrest (i.e. pick fights) within the team.

Whether Korai realized it or not, Shoyo was a source of strength to him – the first ever indication to him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to fight his way to the top _alone_. A rival, but also someone to rely on. There was a clear change in Korai as time went on; he was softened, as if the fire of Shoyo’s determination had balanced him out somehow. Not quite slowing down in his quest to the top, but as if he had finally mastered how to pace himself out for Shoyo’s sake – a year younger, and with so much more to learn.

Sachiro was fine with this arrangement, because he took satisfaction in knowing he wouldn’t be the only one to taste hell once the two monsters were set loose into the real world. For Sachiro, Korai and Shoyo were a symbol of how impossibilities could become attainable. The antics they pulled in high school were only a promise of what was to come; a reminder that the world wasn’t ready for them, but that they would have to be, whether they liked it or not.

A monster duo. Perfect partners in crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((monster by seulrene plays in the distance ................)) 
> 
> next chapter's the last !! enough of the dramatics we're goin back to ~pining~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope i'm not late !!! day 7 of hoshihina week was free prompt, so i finished up this fic with a scene that made me wanna write Kamomedai!hinata in the first place . i was really happy to participate in my first ship week ever, and the fact that i was able to put something out there - multiple works – and have fun with it made me really proud !! 
> 
> i hope yall enjoyed this fic as much as i did , because it really was smth new for me, so if i didn't disappoint, feel free to let me know !! ^^

This is a story of their before.

* * *

Shoyo was always the type of person to go all-out no-holds-barred when it came to the things he liked; wasn’t it worth it, if it were for something he treasured so much? Wasn’t that the least he should do? For him, it was a form of respect for the object of his affections. This was how he loved, and he wasn’t familiar with any other way.

To some extent, Shoyo expected the same thought process from others – he thought of it as a default, to love something whole-heartedly, no half-assery allowed. Funnily enough, and a little unexpectedly, he had enough emotional intelligence to realize at the very least that other people had _different_ _ways_ of showing that love.

Which is why tailing Korai quickly became a favourite new pastime for Shoyo.

Not only because Korai was arguably what he liked most in the world at the moment (save for volleyball), but also because Shoyo could never get enough of the reactions he could provoke out of him; it was hard _not_ to pick up on how Korai himself showed affection, which just made his space in Shoyo’s heart grow even more. Because he was on the other end of it so often. For the first time to such an extent for someone or something that wasn’t his family, Shoyo loved, and he felt loved _back_ (not even volleyball had gotten there yet; at the point, the ball was playing hard-to-get with Shoyo even still).

For Korai, it was little things, but collect them all together, and they spelled out a sort of love Shoyo had been waiting forever to have. That of a teammate, because Korai singled out and scolded Shoyo to take better care of himself, and he was the one who reminded Shoyo that no matter how hard they worked, volleyball was a team game, that they had teammates by their side for a reason (but because Korai was Korai, he couldn’t bite back a smug “But that doesn’t mean we don’t still gotta try to be the best of them, does it?”). That of a senpai, because Korai treated them to an occasional meat bun, which Shoyo couldn’t help but notice only ever happened at _his_ request and none other’s. That of a rival, because Korai insisted on going head-to-head with Shoyo every practice, and especially every health check-up and fitness test they had, and no matter who won or how competitive they got, Shoyo glowed with anticipation, because every challenge felt like _acknowledgement_.

And then there were those little actions that Shoyo didn’t really know how to pinpoint just yet, but knew that he liked. Like when Korai ruffled his head after a job well-done. Like every time he snuck in an extra meat bun for Shoyo because he knew that he had a long way to get home. Like the times when they sat next to each other on the team bus and Korai let Shoyo rest his head on his shoulder because of his carsickness, and he’d wake up with the weight of Korai’s head resting gently on top of his own, the area where the skin of their arms met tingling.

Shoyo knew he could be overbearing, sometimes. But with Korai, it felt like he didn’t have to be scared about overstepping,

It finally felt like he’d met his match, like someone could know his mind without actually reading it, someone _on his level_. Who wanted as much out of life and wanted it just as quickly and impatiently as he did. Someone who understood, and simply manifested it in different ways.

So Shoyo didn’t feel nervous anymore strutting down the hallway of the second-years’ floor. He did it often enough, whenever he came to find Korai at lunch, and every chance they got to walk home together, even though they didn’t live close to each other. Korai walked to the station when he could, and it filled Shoyo with glee, knowing he wasn’t the only one who wanted more time together. He wanted all of Korai, and whatever he got never felt like enough, but he would take what he could get, because whatever he’d already got from Kourai is precious, and _people love differently_. In that, Shoyo knew he was unmatched. So he could be patient.

Today was a rare day off for the team, and though Shoyo sulked a little bit at the thought of missing even the littlest bit of practice (one more day he had to fall behind just a little more), it meant Korai would be expecting to walk home together. And Shoyo could never feel bad about more Korai time.

When Shoyo arrived at Class 2-A after finishing cleanup duty, though, the classroom was empty. He’d run straight from his class, not wanting Korai to have to wait, and for a quick, disappointing second, he wondered if Korai had gone already. Stepping in through the door, silently excusing himself to no one in particular, he opened his phone to see a text from Korai that warned him not to dare to leave without him, he’d just gone to see his teacher about something.

_I’ll wait for you forever_ , he responded with an emoji, acting cute, but only half kidding.

Shoyo snapped his phone closed, smile playing at his lips, relieved. He all but skipped over to the desk he knew was Korai’s, and pulled out the chair to plop into it, dropping the handles of his own bag onto the hook, over Korai’s. “Hoshiumi-senpai’s desk!” He exclaimed to the empty classroom gleefully, and sprawled his hands over the top of the desk, fingers brushing the tiny doodles engraved and Sharpied onto the surface, clearly Korai’s work. _Cute_.

“So cool,” he mused out loud, as if to make up for the thought.

He pulled his arms up over his head and leaned back into the seat, leisurely taking a look around the classroom. Memorizing, imagining that this was the view Korai saw during lessons. The corners of Shoyo’s mouth lifted, amused, but also a little melancholic. School Korai was someone he’d never really have an opportunity to get to know, not like he knew Volleyball Team Korai. He wondered if he was friends with his seatmates, if he ever passed notes while the teacher was talking, if he ever got in trouble for sleeping in class.

Like a spell, Shoyo suddenly let out a yawn, the mere thought of a nap making him realize just how sleepy he was, just how badly he wanted one. He was tired, wanted to shake off this weird, uncomfortable feeling in him. He didn’t know how long Korai would be, and surely he wouldn’t mind if he just put his head down for a minute…

* * *

Korai hadn’t been that long, had he? He checked the time-stamp on the text Shoyo sent him, snorting at the message. He was at the teacher’s office, not heading off to war, for god’s sake. The meeting had ended earlier than he thought, though, and as he entered the classroom not long after Shoyo had arrived, he noticed a figure hulked over his desk, and he could swear that was a snore he heard.

_Can’t blame the kid_ , he supposed. He knew that Shoyo lived in the next town over with a relative, which made for long commutes; what with the constant early morning and late evening practices and schoolwork on top of all that, even Shoyo, almost akin to a force of nature, with his monstrous will and stamina, had to have his limits.

Korai approached his kouhai, dead to the world, face turned towards the door and cheek smushed flat against the desk. For a moment, he considered waking Shoyo up, so he could hurry home and sleep instead. For a moment, he even considered inviting him to sleep over that night, so he didn’t have to take the bike all the way home. Instead of coming to anything conclusive though, Korai found himself standing there for a good minute, simply watching over Shoyo, the way his back rose and fell gently with every breath, and fighting a strange urge to run his fingers through his hair, brush it back behind his ear.

Silently, not a single logical thought in his head capable of explaining what he did next, Korai pulled out the chair of the desk next to his own and sat in it, placed both forearms crossed on the surface, and slowly placed his head on top of them, turned to face Shoyo, mirroring him.

Watching.

If Shoyo opened his eyes now at this very moment, Korai knew he would die of shame.

But Korai, of all people, knew just how exhausted Shoyo had to be, knew how hard he worked, how unwilling he was to do anything halfway. He deserved a break every now and then.

And if that break just so happened to be an opportunity for Korai to ogle him to his heart’s content, so be it. Although, that was simply Sachiro’s term for it, because Korai preferred to say Shoyo was a favoured _subject of observation_ for him. They were going to be rivals someday, after all, and Korai had to be careful every waking moment. Even now, he was collecting important information – like how Shoyo drooled in his sleep, and how Korai _definitely_ did not find that nor his sleeping face even remotely cute.

At that moment, Shoyo’s mouth fell a little more open and he snorked, flinching in his seat, as if to call Korai out on his bold-faced lie. And Korai had no choice but to accept it, because yes, he’d even found that cute, and he was seriously beginning to worry about his taste.

As he sat there, though, in the midst of discovering that he could look straight up Shoyo’s nostrils and despairing over the fact that somehow, that was also adorable to him, he took in their position, and a thought struck him. A wistful one, because he knew it would never happen and this was just yet another set of _what-if_ s he had to convince himself not to entertain, but he wondered if what it would have been like to be in the same grade as Shoyo. To be in the same class, to be able to spend more time together than the measly hours they had in club and after school, to be able to sit side by side like this, study together, exchange notes and secret looks in class.

He wondered whether things would be different if Shoyo had gotten a head start in training, if he’d had the opportunity to cultivate his skills earlier, if he’d gotten the support and foundation he needed instead of coming to Korai a complete rookie – if they had met each other on level playing ground.

Shoyo was going to be the greatest rival Korai ever had in his life, he could feel it in his gut. At ambition and sheer willpower, they were head-to-head. But it didn’t help Korai from feeling frustrated that Shoyo had just a little more disadvantage stacked against him from the beginning, that he wasn’t able to start on a level playing field.

If they were the same age, if they were together from the start, maybe they’d be able to take on the world together sooner.

But to think that way was unfair to Shoyo, he realized with a start. A lack of belief, a lack of trust? Korai’s cheeks burned from shame of entirely different origins now, because what made him think that Shoyo wouldn’t be able to catch up?

None of that was it, and he apologized internally to Shoyo, because he knew that those _what-if_ s didn’t come from doubts about Shoyo’s passion or potential; they never did. They came from somewhere deeper down, a sinister, selfish desire to have Shoyo all to himself, to keep him under his thumb.

So Korai held that selfishness and those _what-if_ s at bay with a promise. A promise unspoken but that he knew Shoyo was holding in his heart all this time. Just to seal the deal, he let himself have one moment of self-indulgence, and reached over. Ran his hand gently through Shoyo’s hair, unlike his usual rough tousle, and tucked it back, letting his fingers linger against the lobe of his ear, lightly along the length of his jaw. And pulled away before he could want to do more.

“We can still take on the world together, kid,” he spoke barely above a whisper, but in the quiet classroom and along with the weight of what he was saying, it resounded within his ears, dancing alongside his quickening heartbeat, like he was yelling at the top of his lungs. “Hurry up and get better, Hinata Shoyo. I’m waiting for you.”

_Let’s show the world what we’ve got, the both of us_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> head on over to my [twitter](https://twitter.com/smolaed) if you're ever bored, bc i am constantly . my account's one part one piece, one part kpop, one part haikyuu, and one part thousands of other mangas n video games n groups .................. maybe i can introduce u to smth new ehe


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